


Breaking and Entering

by Arithanas



Category: Hot Fuzz (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13087437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arithanas/pseuds/Arithanas
Summary: Nicholas Angel was red-handed perpetrating a crime. His punishment was severe.





	Breaking and Entering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thischarmingmutant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thischarmingmutant/gifts).



Nicholas Angel took a sip from his Ribena bottle and committed breaking and entering.

Under the Theft Act of 1968, he could be charged with a misdemeanour. No sensible police officer could argue he wasn’t going in fully equipped to perform this particular piece of mischief, and thus in blatant infraction of section 25. Prosecutors would find themselves in a tight spot when outlining the facts of this particular case since the test for dishonesty is bound to fail. Regina v Price was still a useful reference for a defence plea.

The door creaked. The wood floor looked freshly swept and that was strange. He didn’t recall a cleaning service called to the scene. Angel reached for the switch to check the lights and those worked properly. Apparently, the place hasn’t been disturbed.

Angel took some cautious steps, noticing the intact dust upon the boxes. The old couch was still in the place he had seen it the last time, from there, his target was within reach.

The handle was cold, it made his old stab wound ache. With clenching teeth, Nicholas Angel busted open the vault. The warm automatic lights bathed the small room. Danny Butterman’s movie stash was as impressive as ever, and he had to curb the need to let his jaw drop.

With his usual calm, Angel took the bottle and the rag from his backpack and got to work. The first step was to take down the plastic cases from the higher shelf. Then, apply a generous measure of orange oil and beeswax. He was getting engrossed in his task when he noticed the shuffling sound of heavy steps in the floor. Nicholas stopped to be sure those sounds were not a figment of his criminal imagination.

“What are you doing  _ here _ ?”

Nicholas froze at the sound of Constable Butterman’s voice, but he kept his cool and returned to his task as if he has the ghost of a lawful excuse to his behaviour.

“That was my question, Constable Butterman,” Angel said, aching to turn around and hug the man but playing the cards he was dealt.

It would be highly frowned upon if he jumped a subordinate and committed what the regulations describe as aggravated sexual assault. It doesn't matter if embracing another member of the Police service without their consent was intended a greeting. Nicholas spied him with the corner of the eye and noticed the blinding white bandage peeking out of the grey sweatpants before Danny turned around in the general direction of the couch.

“They needed the bed and I wanted to come home,” Danny’s voice sounded meek and the old couch whined when his weigh rested on the most tired springs of the furniture. “Sergeant, you are rummaging my flicks.”

Nicholas didn’t correct the title. There would be time for Danny to come up to speed with all the changes. “I’m putting some order here, so you don’t have to do it.”

“I have my system,” Danny said with the tone of a petulant teen caught flaunting the loitering regulation.

Angel stopped and smiled. His right hand went to the folder inside his backpack and his left put the rag in the floor. He turned around swiftly and faced Danny with a serious expression.

“I have cracked your code in the hospital.” The papers made a rustling sound when Nicholas showed them. His right finger made that movement it always does when he pressed the button of his faithful pen. “And I can show you how!”

Danny gave a small silly grin and the laugh began to bubble in his belly but what appeared to be a moment of triumph for the newly-minted Chief of Sandford’s Police Service ended with a pained grunt. Danny shuffled in his place with his hand over the bandages. It was obvious he was experiencing an unspecified amount of discomfort.

Nicholas Angel stood his place, uncertain on how to proceed. Police training didn’t cover failed attempts of humour performed on convalescent ballistic trauma patients.

“Ohhh, fuck,” Danny spat as he recovered his breath.

“Sorry…” The word didn’t cover what he felt, but that was all he could offer at the moment.

Danny hand waved frantically as if the incident was without consequence.

“There is still the matter of your aggravated trespass against my home.”

“I don’t see the aggravated part of it.”

“You have disrupted an activity: taking a nap,” Danny counteracted with a smile, “of a law-abiding subject of the Queen: me.” Danny concluded, pointing at himself with both thumbs. “You caused me undue and subjective damage.”

“Compensation can be ordered in respect of damage caused during the commission of an offence,” Angel quoted The Criminal Damage Act of 1971 that he had learned by heart on a bet while he was in the Academy.

“You are un-fucking-believable!”

“I also want you to consider I have brought you a welcome-home gift,” Nicholas said, extracting from his backpack a small package that still bore half of the Buford Abbey’s Megamart price tag, “before you turn me in shackles to the Sandford’s Constabulary.”

Danny’s face lighted up, and he showed almost childlike pleasure he turned the small case around. Angel sat upright while Danny uncovered a brand new copy of the latest cop flick. It was an important item since Danny couldn’t catch this one in the theatre. There was no way to know if Jean-Claude van Damme would be enough to keep Angel out of the stoney lonesome. Yet, the expectant expression of Danny Butterman was enough to risk some days on the wrongs side a cell door .

“ _ Until Death! _ ” Danny exclaimed the title as if it were the Holy Grail.

“It’s not in your collection,” Nicholas declared, modestly.

Not in a million years Danny will know Nicholas  _ persuaded _ one of the few teenagers of the village to choose the most perfect title available.

“You are not off the hook yet,” Danny said, getting comfortable in the couch. “Put the kettle on.”

“No beer?”

“Painkillers,” Danny said, and made a sad smirk.

Nicholas nodded and picked up his backpack once more.

“Good thing I brought these also,” Nicholas commented and put a package of Jammie Dodgers in the table before he went to put that kettle on.

The faint sound of the DVD tray and Danny’s excited gasp accompanied Nicholas to the kitchen, and he couldn't help feeling a bit proud of his success.

**Author's Note:**

> Vae was a trooper and their editing skills made this fic pretty and readable. This author very grateful.


End file.
